


What Happens on Ziost

by Sirotras



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-19 17:23:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19361341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirotras/pseuds/Sirotras
Summary: After everything she’s been through, Ziost was the last place Rila wanted to be. Too many memories, too many ghosts. She hated this city. And yet, here she was, using herself as bait to save it. To say she’s on edge is understating it, though whether that’s because of the looming threat, the memories, or the Republic spy she kissed, she can’t really tell.





	1. Rila's POV

**Author's Note:**

> a not so short bit of angst set during the Invasion of Ziost

  
  


Rila looked upon the skyline of New Adasta and was still surprised by how little it has changed. Not just in the past couple weeks, but in the years she’d been gone. Strange that the city was falling apart in every other way imaginable and the towering skyscrapers did not even have the grace to show it. The buildings stood, apathetic and uncaring to the death and chaos choking the streets far below. 

 

As apathetic and uncaring as the people who lived in it were. Here, she had been at her most vulnerable, here, she had been at her most helpless, and they had not cared. They had been as unmoved as the buildings. So she was playing bait to save them?

 

Fuck this city. Fuck this planet. She closed her eyes against her mounting headache, clenching her fists. The downside of always wearing gloves was that she could not feel her nails bite the flesh of her palm. She had fought and bled for this city. Even though it had never cared about her, she had done her part to protect the people of New Adasta. Why had she ever returned?

 

It didn’t matter. The trap was set, all they had to do now was wait for Vitiate’s pawns. It felt like ages. 

 

Whether that was because of the imminent threat or the particular man she was waiting with was lost to her. The memory of their time together last year sat between them, subtle as a bantha. She was never good at this sort of thing.

 

“So, uh, things seemed pretty tense back there, between you and Lana,” Theron sneaks a glance at her from the corner of his eye, checking readings on his datapad, or pretending to. “Everything alright?”

 

_ Do not answer that truthfully.  _ But what was she supposed to do? Lie? After everything that’s happened she was too tired to lie, especially in this city, with all it’s ghosts. Especially to him.  _ But why should that matter? _

 

“No,” she answered truthfully, and he looked a little surprised, she was too. The smart thing would be to lie. But she didn’t. And she couldn't just stop at that, could she? “Lana is angry with me because I didn’t kill Agent Kovach.”

 

“Because you didn’t—?” He gapes at her, but then, after a moment, understanding. “She wanted you to kill him, because you found out he was a double agent.”

 

After the realization settles, he looks to her cautiously. She should be angry, shouldn’t she? He had placed a mole in Sith Intelligence, regardless of the fact that he was ignorant of Kovach’s true loyalties, he his actions hurt the Empire, and she was supposed to care about that. But she did not have the strength, in this moment, to care. She had never been able to find it in herself to hate anyone for working against the Empire.

 

“He was a triple agent, actually.” She tried to give him a sympathetic smile, it felt flat and weak, even to her, and likely more closely resembled a grimace. “In truth, he answered to Saresh.”

 

Theron cursed. 

 

“Sorry.” She said. She didn’t think that was the right thing to say, exactly. But then, she was probably not the right person to deliver the news in the first place. But who else would? Certainly not Kovach. Maybe Saresh, but only to rub it in his face. Stars, she was not made for this. 

 

He was quiet for a moment, taking in the full weight of that news. She was about ready to succumb to the uncomfortable silence between them when—

 

“So… Why didn’t you? Kill him, I mean.” Theron looked genuinely curious once he spoke again. Impressive, how quickly he compartmentalized that betrayal. She knew that path well. “No one would blame you if you did. ”

 

_ You would.  _ But that shouldn’t matter, should it? What was the opinion of one Republic spy to a Dark Councilor? Everything, it seemed.

 

“Because I’m Sith?” That came out quite a bit more bitter than she intended. She’s usually better at keeping up a mask. She blamed this city. And him.

 

Damn. 

 

“That’s not…” he trailed off when he caught her look, because they both knew that’s exactly what he meant. Sith kill traitors, everyone knew that. It was the  _ least _ they could do. It was as sure as the stars. “Sorry.”

 

She couldn’t help but think, again, that the smart thing to do would be to lie, like she had to Lana. But she was tired of lies, especially about herself.

 

“I am tired.”  _ Weren’t they all? _ She felt frayed, undone. And all it takes is one loose thread… She took that thread between her fingers, and pulled. “I am tired of this, and of the Empire. Everything I do is towards it’s benefit, and I am so tired of that.”

 

One loose thread, and it had begun.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

The fabric around her neck felt too tight, like a noose.  _ Or a collar _ . She pulled at it uselessly. Too many things coming to the surface. What did it even matter?

She felt she should pace, but his worried eyes kept her pinned in place, confused and concerned at her mounting distress. And why did he have to do that? Be worried about her?

 

“Because I hate it. The Empire.  I  _ hate _ it. And I know how to hate. I am Sith, after all.” She felt dizzy as it all tumbled out. Was this real? Everything felt so far away. “And I  _ hate _ that. I  _ hate _ the Sith. I  _ hate _ what they have made me, what I have become. I  _ hate _ the things I have done all for the sake of survival, and now I am not even sure any of it was worth—“

 

Damn this city. 

 

Her words hung in the chilled night air between them, hard and irrevocable. What has been said can not be unsaid. And what was unsaid was clear enough. It was a terrible sort of relief, like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and then she had been promptly shot. Like the brief fall from the gallows. A release… then _snap_. 

 

_ Damn this city.  _

 

She stood, the reality of what she’d said sinking into her veins like ice. She remembers thinking on Rishi he could be her ruin, he was a spy after all. And she just gave him the perfect instrument. _ Is that how it is to be? _

 

He looked at her like… like he was seeing the pieces fall into place. He looked at her with gentle understanding. And worry. Oh no. Somehow that was worse. How was she supposed to handle that? She was used to shadows, to hiding, being  _ seen?  _ That hurt, like sleet onto bare skin, it  _ hurt _ . She wanted to physically recoil from it, but she couldn’t.  _ It _ was words and sentiment, and no matter how she twisted she’d never get far enough from it.

 

No one told her it would hurt so much, to be seen.

 

_What had she been thinking?_ It didn’t matter and he’s still looking at her, more tenderly than she could ever deserve, like he wants to reach out, wants to- to what? _Help her?_ _Absurd_. 

 

He had asked her, once, if she wanted this. She had said it didn’t matter. Did it?

 

No. She was beyond that, had been for years. She was a member of the  _ Dark Council,  _ for stars’ sake _.  _ Questions like this would be the death of her. Or him. Was that worse? She thinks so.

 

And he just stood there, looking at her as if she was someone who was capable of being looked at like  _ that _ .

 

She choked back something that sounded terribly close to a sob and whipped around back to the skyline. 

 

It didn’t matter what she wanted, it  _ never _ did. Would that she could wrap herself in shadows and be swallowed by their darkness, to be free of this. She wished herself away. She wished her words unsaid, better to suffer in unknown silence. Anything, to make this stop hurting, to make him stop looking at her like that, all gentle and… and… some emotion she did not recognize. 

 

Damn this city. 

 

She sensed him move behind her, towards her.  _ Stars no, please _ —

 

The elevator whirred to life across the root top.

 

“Here comes the puppet brigade, fingers crossed.” He said, and how can he be so flippant?

 

She turned to face elevator doors, to have something to look at besides him and his concern. It was a danger to them both. But now they had more immediate threats to face, and all else fell away. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

The fight was good, centering. She thinks she may have a broken rib. Good. The pain grounds her and clears her head. 

 

There is no time to talk to Theron. He is immediately absorbed with evacuating his Jedi, as he should be. They all had responsibilities to attend to. Distractions were the last thing any of them needed right now. The threat was passed, but only for a time. They needed to take advantage of every second. 

 

She was left standing with Lana. 

 

Lana was clever, and had already started to put the pieces together, Rila could tell. Even if she did not know what Rila had told Theron, she at the very least suspected. And that suspicion hummed between them, making the air thick. What she would do with that suspicion was what concerned Rila.

 

Lana excused herself curtly, and left Rila standing on the rooftop. A dangerous place to be, alone as she was, with her thoughts. 

 

Theron and the Jedi may be safe, leaving, the planet may be evacuating, but they had not stopped the Emperor, only bought a bit of time. Things will get worse before they get better, she feels that with a dreadful certainty.  _ If _ they get better. Rila isn’t sure they would, if past experience was anything to go by.  

 

She stood still for a long time, staring at the stars, trying to make sense of things, until Lana called to tell her Marr wanted to speak. She could almost hear her bones creak with the effort of moving. This, whatever it was, was not over, but the day was. That was enough. She’d return to her ship and sleep, she might not even need the sleeping pills tonight. That would be nice. 

 

She wished she had said more, or done something else. Her heart wrenches thinking about how Theron had looked at her. To think that  anyone could look at her that way? That someone had? That it would probably never happen again? But it was in the past now, dwelling on it did as much use as pressing bruises. 


	2. Theron's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the exact same scene, but this time from Theron's POV, I figured if stephenie meyer can do it, so can i (at least for one scene)

 

Theron worried at the controls as the elevator doors slid open.  Rila strode onto the rooftop and he struggled to disguise the hitch in his breathing. Lucky for him that her mind seemed distant. He had it bad. Bad enough he was mooning over an Imp, but a member of the Dark Council? Get it together Shan.  

 

He’d told himself it wouldn’t matter after they left Yavin, that they’d never see each other again. That was months ago. The Force certainly had a sense of humor.

 

They had more pressing matters to deal with. 

 

He said something about the plan and she nodded stiffly, then drifted to the railing, listless. 

 

He made a few final tweaks and then all there was to do… was wait. 

 

Rila looked out at the city, her eyes were far away. What was she thinking about? Nothing good, judging by the crease in her brow. He thinks he saw her shiver, barely, and has to fight down the urge to offer his jacket. That wouldn’t do either of them any good. 

 

Standing there, still as a statue, she looked like she was carved out of moonlight, standing in the cold night air. Like something literally out of this world.

 

Shit. That was stupidly romantic. Not to mention cheesy. Good thing there was a giant threat looming over their shoulders, or he might have done something stupid. 

 

Well, something even _more_ stupid. He wasn’t sure how long he could stand in silence. Guess it was time to talk around the bantha in the room. 

 

“So…uh…” He started slowly, and even then he still noticed her flinch. He pretended to focus on his datapad.  “Things seemed pretty tense back there between you and Lana. Everything alright?”

 

She turned, all her attention zeroing in on him. With her wide, pale eyes and her intense stare, he understood why so many people had described them as ‘unnerving’. Not that he agreed with them, just that he saw where they were coming from. Certainly not something you’d see on humans, they reflected light strangely. The effect could be startling to say the least.

 

“No” She said, seeming caught off guard by her own answer. She wasn’t the only one. “Lana is angry with me because I didn’t kill Agent Kovach.”

 

“Because you— what?” He blinked rapidly then, oh no. “She wanted you to kill him… because you found out he was a double agent…”

 

He could kick himself. Of course, now this would come out, when they least needed it. They had to help the people of New Adasta, a breach of trust like this…

 

He looked back to her, expecting to see resentment, or judgement, or some form of condemnation, and found none. She just steadily met his gaze, her face neutral.

 

“He was a triple agent, actually.” She offered him something that might have been a smile, he thinks, “He answered to Saresh.”

 

_Shit_. Of course. Now he seriously did consider kicking himself. He’d gotten played, this whole time. And he’s sure Saresh was loving every minute of it. No wonder she had sounded so smug on the holo. 

 

“Sorry,” was all she offered and then looked at her feet, shifting her weight. Despite, well, everything, it was sort of funny to see a vaunted Lord of the Sith looking so painfully out of her element. It was cute… and now was _definitely_ not the time to be thinking of that. 

 

“Why didn’t you?” He asked the question before he could stop himself. He just couldn’t leave well enough alone, never did. “Kill him, I mean. It’s… not like anyone would blame you if you did.”

 

“Because I’m Sith?” She didn’t sound angry, just tired. He thinks he caught the barest glint of hurt in her eyes, but it was gone just like that. 

 

“That’s not what I…” Except it’s exactly what he meant, and she knew it. Shit. “Sorry.”

 

And just like that, he ruined the moment. 

 

He didn’t think she was going to answer, it’s not like she had any reason to. He was the last person she had any reason to explain herself to. Her eyes drifted back to the skyline in thought, and he figured that was it for this stilted attempt at conversation. 

 

“I am tired.” When she finally spoke, he almost jumped. It took him a second to realize she was actually answering his question. She was looking at him again, with her unwavering gaze. “I am tired of this, and of the Empire. Everything I do is towards it’s benefit, and I am so tired of that.”

 

“What do you mean?” He was almost afraid of what she’d say to that, but he had to ask. Her voice sounded so… worn. This was a bit more than he’d bargained for. 

 

She tugged at the collar of her robes and shifted on her feet. He half expected her to turn away, but she didn’t. That was a relief, he needed to see her face right now. Best not to examine _that_ too closely.

 

“Because I hate it.” she said at last, “The Empire.  I _hate_ it. And I know how to hate. I am Sith, after all. And I _hate_ that. I _hate_ the Sith. I _hate_ what they have made me, what I have become. I _hate_ the things I have done all for the sake of survival, and now I am not even sure any of it was worth—“

 

She cut herself off, but it was too late, they both knew where that sentence was heading. His heart twisted and suddenly, she made a whole lot more sense. 

 

He almost reached out to touch her but he saw the look in her eyes, wide with fear, panic. She looked around as if scanning for an exit, but there really wasn’t anywhere to go. She looked like a cornered animal.

 

He remembers asking her once, if this life was what she wanted, and she had said it didn’t matter, insisted actually. She had said it in a way that sounded to him like she was trying to convince herself as much as him. And of course she was. If anyone ever even suspected, it was her life on the line. How long had she been playing this part? 

 

And what was he supposed to say? ‘It’ll be alright’? She would never believe that, he wasn’t even sure he did. ‘I’m here for you’? Except he couldn’t be, not for long, his place was with the Republic. ‘Let me help’? How in the galaxy was he supposed to help. Shit. He felt helpless. 

 

She made a pained noise and turned away. He saw her shoulders shake, just barely. Shit.

 

He began to move towards her without knowing what he was going to do, just that he had to do something—

 

The elevator hummed across the rooftop. Time’s up. 

 

“Here comes the puppet brigade, fingers crossed.” At least he could always fall back on humor. She made a noise that wasn’t quite a laugh, but wasn’t a scoff either, and looked to the elevator doors. He took a moment to marvel at her. How quickly she pushed all of it down and steeled herself. 

And then they had more than enough to keep them occupied. 

 

 

* * *

 

There was no time to talk, once it was over. His priority was getting Master Surro and what little else was left of the Sixth Line out of there. And Rila had her own problems he was sure.

 

Even if he’s had a chance, how would he explain it?  (Sorry guys gotta go back into enemy territory real quick to talk to the Sith Lord I may or may not be falling in love with)? Shit. Still, he felt guilty at leaving it like… well… that. 

 

He wished he had some way to contact her, to _stay_ in contact. To say he was worried after the things she said was an understatement. She’d admitted to treason, and that was a death sentence, and it probably wouldn’t be a quick one. He still didn’t know how he could help, but if he could be there for her in some way… 

 

 It was all a mess. Not to mention how much trouble he was in. He spent the shuttle ride back to the Republic fleet replaying what happened in his head, trying to think of some way it could have gone better, and failing.

 

And then… then the news came. About Ziost. About it’s people. All those people… gone… Turned to ash is what the reports said, but then, reports said a lot of things.

 

Intel was spotty, it was at least a week before he could even confirm she had made it off planet before it happened, and even then he couldn’t get specifics. He’d had to fight to get just that much, and he wasn’t exactly in a position to fight. No chance he’d be able to reach out to her anytime soon, let alone establish consistent contact. Maybe if he got a hold of one of her crew? No, that was still too risky, there had to be another way…

 

Shit. 

 

It felt like they were two steps behind and Vitiate was having the time of his life watching them scramble. He could only hope Rila and Lana were managing things on their end. He had to believe things were okay between them, because otherwise… they were all in a lot more trouble.


End file.
